


All is calm, all is bright

by Rosaliss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Gifts, Marriage, Mentions of War, Romione is one of my first ships, it's been many many years but i'm still so soft for them, it's just them being disgustingly cute enjoy, no beta we die like fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28284447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosaliss/pseuds/Rosaliss
Summary: After a Christmas party with their friends, Hermione and Ron share some cuddly alone time together. It's just fluff, really.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	All is calm, all is bright

**Author's Note:**

> We can have a little fluff on Christmas. As a treat.
> 
> Unbeta'd + English isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes, uuh... forgive me and please point them out so I can correct them.

The house was a lot quieter now that everyone was gone, almost empty, silent but for the crackling of the dying fire in the fireplace. With a glance at the clock on the wall, Hermione sighed. It was well past midnight and the house was a mess: dirty dishes in the sink, cutlery and leftover food–admittedly little–on the long dining room table, and residual glitter and confetti on the floor from Seamus’s attempt at Merlin knows what festive trick. She felt way too tired to take care of it all.

“That was one hell of a party,” Ron said, plumping down on the living room chair. He looked up at her and patted his thigh. “Care to join me?”

Hermione smiled and sat down on her husband’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I think we did well.”

“Well? We did great! First Christmas party hosted as a married couple: test passed.” He moved his index in the air to mimic a checkmark and sent a wink her way making her chuckle.

“I suppose you’re right, we did a great job. They all seemed very happy, didn’t they? And the dinner was delicious. Excellent work on that pudding.”

“Mum’s recipe, bound to satisfy even the pickiest of eaters!” Ron announced as if he was reciting a commercial. “But yeah, they had fun, and so did I. What about you?”

“I had the most perfect time,” Hermione smiled, planting a soft kiss on his temple. “Except that now my feet are screaming in pain.”

“That’s because you insisted on wearing these awful heels,” Ron said, taking the elegant black shoes off of Hermione and letting them fall on the floor.

Hermione reached down to massage a particularly sore spot on her heel, grimacing slightly. “It was a special occasion.”

“Hermione, my love, you could go to one of those fancy Ministry dinner parties wearing a pair of slippers with a plushy lion on them and still be the most beautiful woman in the room. Not that your value should depend on your looks,” he added. “You’d still be smarter than any of them, and that’s already a lot.”

“Ronald Weasley, you are utterly insufferable, I swear!” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that married me!”

“A decision I’ll regret for the rest of my life,” she said, but leaned in and gave him a quick, sweet peck on the lips before sighing again and hiding her face on the crook of his neck.

The room was dim, lit only by the small fire, and the evening, however pleasant, had proved tiring enough to leave Hermione affected by the sleepy atmosphere and the warmth of Ron’s arms around her. In a corner, colourful little lights were still dancing on the Christmas tree. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“What if I wanted to?” Hermione muttered on his neck, not moving an inch nor opening her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed on a normal day, but I need you to be awake for now.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s time for gifts!” Ron exclaimed with a level of energy that baffled Hermione.

“I have no intention of moving.”

“Good thing we don’t have to, then,” he said, then grabbed his wand and whispered a quick _accio_. One of the gifts piled under the tree extracted itself from the others and flew towards them, landing right in Hermione’s lap. “You can open it right here.”

Hermione picked it up. It was wrapped in red paper with a golden bow on top of it. From the shape of it, it looked like a book: the typical present Hermione got, and always her favourite. She glanced at Ron, who was watching her with a grin plastered on his face, and opened it.

The book was big, with a brownish leather cover, and the cover read: ‘ _Hogwarts: A New History_ by Bathilda Bagshot and Ronald Bilius Weasley’. She sent an inquisitive look at Ron, who was still smiling. “Ron, what–”

“Open it towards the end,” he said excitedly, without letting her finish.

She did, letting the book fall open where she knew the final page would be. Except that it wasn’t: a new quire had been added, with the first of the new pages presenting the topic of house-elves. A quick browse revealed chapters on the Room of Requirement and other subjects that had been left out in the official edition, either for ignorance or blatant censorship of the nastier aspects of the Magic World history. The last chapter described what had happened to Hogwarts during and after the war, and Hermione stopped for a moment.

“Oh, Ron,” she sighed, reclining the book towards the light from the fireplace to better see it. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. You always say that that book needs a revision, so here it is.”

“Did you do this all by yourself?” Hermione asked, inspecting the binding. The added pages looked the exact same as the others in every aspect and the additions on the cover were perfectly crafted. A well-executed spell, indeed. “It must have been quite a lot of research.”

“You know all those times Harry and I went to practice Quidditch together? Yeah, I was actually working on this. Harry lent me a hand, but he wasn’t much help. I asked Luna and Ginny to come over one day since I figured, you know, Luna’s a Ravenclaw and her father edits a magazine, even if it’s a weird one. She helped with some graphic aspects, but then she started rumbling about Hogwarts secrets that I don’t think are real, and I couldn’t really say anything to her with Ginny glaring at me behind her, could I? At one point I got so desperate that I called Percy. At least he’s read the book.”

“Wait,” Hermione looked up. “You’re telling me that you still haven’t read it? After assembling a new version of it?”

“Bloody hell, Hermione, of course I haven’t read it, that book’s about a billion pages long! I care about my health.”

Hermione scoffed and snuggled closer to Ron. She ran a reverent hand on the title of the chapter regarding the war. She knew how hard it was for Ron to talk about it, even years after, and her heart filled with pride, knowing that Ron had managed to write that chapter–and that he’d done it for her.

There were things that helped: time, for one, and Christmas parties with friends, silly songs sung at a too high volume. Cute dates, dinners with families, embarrassing but warming, Quidditch games, both playing at the park or cheering from the stands. Exchanging gifts by the fireplace, lazy talks late at night, the reassuring warmth of two bodies close together, limbs entangled, an arm wrapped around shoulders. Hermione was lucky enough to have all this, lucky enough, in the misfortune of being a girl trapped in a war and the adversities of being herself in a world where figures like Voldemort had followers, to have found good people along the way. The scars couldn’t fade, but she could find happiness in nights like this, and she knew that Ron, brave, sweet Ron, with a heart full of love despite having been broken many times during the war, did too.

“I have something for you too,” she said after a while, closing the book. She drew out her own wand and called to her another gift from the pile under the tree. She pushed it into Ron’s hands with an excited grin. “Open it!”

He did, and his eyes widened when he crumpled the paper to reveal a Quidditch shirt signed by his favourite keeper. “How…?”

“Ginny helped,” Hermione answered. When she’d started to rise as a Quidditch promise, Ginny had made it clear to her relatives and friends that she had no intention of asking her colleagues to sign autographs for them, but when Hermione asked her to help with Ron’s gift, she’d just shrugged and hunted down the keeper with her.

“So we both called Ginny, uh? She’s gonna be so smug about it,” Ron grimaced. “Speaking of, we should probably go to bed if we want to be at least half alive to face my mother and the rest of the family tomorrow. Off to bed we go.”

“We haven’t cleaned up yet.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow. I consumed my last bit of energy with that _accio_. It’s way too late in the night for me. I’m getting old.”

“You’re 24.”

“Exactly.”

She knew she’d regret it in the morning, when they would inevitably end up cleaning up last minute, with Ron only half-dressed up and muttering curses under his breath about how mad Molly would be if they arrived late, but she was too tired and content to fully care, so she agreed. She squeaked and laughed when Ron lifted her up–so much for not having energy left, she thought.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he said.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder and letting herself be carried to their room.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! And merry Christmas if you celebrate it. Remember to drink your respect trans women juice every morning. (If you are a trans woman, you can chug it and call it self-care.) Stay safe and have a good day, I wish you all the best!


End file.
